Soup
by lish1ellis
Summary: Sherlock is bored and wants to make soup. Just a random look into life at 221B and the realtionship between John and Sherlock. No slash, can be seen as fluff.


SOUP.

PART 1

John knew what was going to happen a long time before it did. He saw the signs – the petulant sighs, the constant fidgeting and the ever increasing glances at the drawer where the gun was kept.

"Bored" moaned Sherlock as he rolled onto the couch miserably, his unruly hair falling into his eyes. John glanced up from his paper, irritated. Sherlock had been like this for weeks. Lestrade had no new cases that were worthy of Sherlock's attention and after doing countless experiments, hassling his brother and even attempting to buy the shopping, Sherlock was bored. John flinched as he remembered the occasion on which Sherlock had bought the shopping. Instead of milk, tea and nicotine patches, Sherlock somehow managed to buy soy sauce, Jaffa cakes (Which Sherlock proclaimed foul) and a book about pregnancy.

"If you are so bored, then why don't you EAT something?"

Sherlock rolled over to face John and fixed him with a steely glare. "Eating is even more boring than being bored"

John was getting extremely frustrated now. "Oh I don't know! Cook something then!" He knew as soon as he said it that it was a mistake. A glint entered Sherlock's icy blue eyes and he leapt up. "But Sherlock, you can't cook!" John desperately tried to back track and prevent the inevitable house fire that would occur if Sherlock went anywhere near an oven. "I'll just follow a recipe" Sherlock leafed furiously through an untouched cookery book that John had bought a few months previously. "And you can help." John's eyes widened with horror as he realized helping was probably the only way to keep Sherlock, and the flat, safe.

"Fine" John grumbled "What do you want to cook?" "Soup" said Sherlock, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Okay then, I'll get the ingredients out and you can put the oil in the pan for cooking them" John faked optimism. Sherlock looked at him condescendingly "Just because I choose to learn more useful things than cooking, doesn't mean you have to speak to me like a child. Or pretend to be looking forward to this" John saw the faintest shadow of what looked like hurt in Sherlock's facial expression, which did for a second, look uncannily like a child's. John quickly turned to the fridge and opened the vegetable drawer in search of onions, hiding his shame from his flatmate. "No! John! Don't!" But it was too late, the packet of human ears was already in John's hand. "REALLY SHERLOCK? EARS?" John sighed angrily and tossed them to the side as he pulled out a rather unhealthy looking onion. The splattering and sizzling behind him indicated that Sherlock had poured the oil and John felt a glimmer of hope as he spun around, arms full of vegetables. That hope was quickly extinguished.

PART 2

There hadn't been enough oil in the bottle. Not nearly enough to fulfil the ratio of oil to vegetables. For a while he had wondered if using soy sauce instead was a good idea. He had just begun to weigh up the pro's and con's and hypothesise on the outcome when John had shouted at him about the ears. He didn't care, obviously. John shouting at him had no effect on his calculating mind. No effect at all. What had an effect was that John hadn't looked all too enthusiastic about cooking in the first place. Sherlock was hurt and threw in the soy sauce anyway, just to spite his flatmate. When John turned around and saw the fumes rising from the pan his face turned slack and exhausted. "Sherlock, please tell me that isn't soy sauce." Silence fell on 221B, which was beginning to smell strongly of Chinese food. "I can't do that John." John closed his eyes in frustration as Sherlock dropped the vegetables one by one into the pan, like a kid dropping stones into a well. "You are supposed to cut up the vegetables first!" John rushed to the pan as Sherlock dropped a whole carrot in.

PART 3

The soup was ruined. It wasn't even soup. John stared blankly at the pan of soy covered vegetables as Sherlock made stock very noisily in the background. "John!" shouted the indignant voice from behind him. "You are supposed to be stirring!" John began to stir monotonously, ever aware that Sherlock was studying his face carefully. "Why do you care so much Sherlock? It's just soup!" John tried to sound calm but anger seeped into his tone towards the end. Sherlock's face was expressionless as he poured the stock into a massive vat that was dominating half of the kitchen. "I think I can take it from here John, you go back to reading your paper." There was a harsh undertone in the seemingly friendly remark and John was taken aback. "Right...okay...Sorry to have "bothered" you" John stormed into the living room and snatched his paper up angrily. How dare he? There had been ears in the fridge, unpeeled vegetables, SOY SAUCE and now this! How could he be such a child! Sherlock knew John was having a hard time recently, he hadn't mentioned it, but of course he knew. The fact that he had pushed John away from the project they had started together hurt John more than he thought it would.

PART 4

Sherlock yanked the blender out of the cupboard furiously. John hadn't wanted to make soup with him. This was what "normal" people did wasn't it? NORMAL flatmates and NORMAL friends. He plugged it in and attempted to blend a whole onion. He swirled what John called the "whizzer" round and round the vat, getting angrier and angrier. He had wanted to make this soup for John, to apologise for the body parts in the fridge and the constant need to be entertained. But since John had made it obvious he didn't want to have anything to do with it, or Sherlock, he didn't see why he had to make it. Sherlock glanced at Johns sandy coloured hair, poking over the top of his favourite armchair. He felt pain in his chest. "Normal" people would moan about heartache but Sherlock knew in his case that was truly impossible. John was a distraction and nothing more. Sherlock left the soup to simmer and sat at the kitchen table in silence. The shrill ring of John's phone pierced the atmosphere. It was Sarah, Sherlock could tell by the way John answered it almost reluctantly, thing's hadn't been too good in their relationship recently. Obviously due to the fact that she liked him a lot more than he liked her, it wasn't balanced.

PART 5

Sarah Calling. John hesitated for a fraction of a second and then answered. Sarah jabbered away about dates and work, John was barely listening, his thoughts were on Sherlock. Maybe he was too harsh about the soy sauce as it was obvious Sherlock had never cooked before. Maybe he should have tried harder to be enthusiastic about the whole thing. It was obviously important to Sherlock for some reason. Eventually Sarah got the hint and ended the conversation sounding upset. John was shocked to discover he didn't care.

PART 6

Sherlock watched as John hung up. Doomed relationship and John knew it. He persevered though, tried to force himself into liking her, probably because he was too kind to break up with her. Maybe the soy sauce was taking things a bit too far, John was obviously tired with the whole Sarah situation. Maybe he should get another fridge specifically for his experiments. Sherlock sat and thought in silence until the timer on the counter buzzed and whirred, clamouring for his attention. He had to make it up to John. There was a particularly interesting murder in the papers and it wouldn't be long before Lestrade needed him. It would be beneficial to have an assistant, and a friend, at the crime scene with him. Sherlock pulled two bowls out of the cupboard and set them down with a clatter. He filled each bowl to the brim with piping hot soup, which was a murky brown colour. He picked up the two bowls and wandered, too nonchalantly, to where John was sitting.

PART 7

"Sherlock, listen..." Before John could continue he was interrupted by a flurry of words from the consulting detective. "!" John blinked as the taller man stopped and looked at his feet, embarrassed about his emotional outburst. "Yeah...soup sounds good" John gave the detective an apologetic smile and accepted the tentatively offered bowl. Sherlock sat down and looked at the soup. "Well this should be interesting." John gazed at his bowl fearfully. There was half a leek floating in it. "Together?" John looked up. "Yeah, I don't think I can do this alone." Sherlock gave his signature half smile and gulped down a large spoonful.

Sherlock watched as John drank the soup at the same time as him. Thoughts were rushing through his brain as the soup travelled down his throat. He felt happy and relieved that John had forgiven him, embarrassed that he could have acted so emotionally, curious because he wanted to conduct experiments on the soup and extremely nervous to whether John would like it. His thoughts were cut off by the gagging sound that was coming from the chair opposite. John seemed to be choking! Before Sherlock could react, it seemed a similar thing had afflicted him, as he fell to the ground coughing and wheezing. "Sherlock!" gasped John "This is the worst soup I have ever had!" Then John collapsed into fits of giggles and coughing. Sherlock agreed. The soup was vile, even worse than those "Jaffa Cake" things. But Sherlock wasn't offended. He began to join in with Johns hysterical cackling and the two men gasped for air as they struggled to describe the flavour of the soup. "It was salty. VERY salty" John erupted into giggles again.

The laughing was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Sherlock was alert immediately. "I know exactly who that is" he muttered as he stood up. John watched curiously as Sherlock's face turned from irritation at the footsteps to sheer glee as an idea popped into his head. Sherlock scooped up his bowl just in time for the door to open. "Mycroft!" Sherlock said pleasantly. "Would you like some soup?"


End file.
